


Across The Stars

by Pax_Kerbalica



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Angst, Beck and Johanssen as Roommates, Beth Johanssen is a Nerd, Fluff, Gen, Mark Watney is a Nerd, Pre-Canon, So They Shall Be Nerds Together, Watney's Having a Bad Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pax_Kerbalica/pseuds/Pax_Kerbalica
Summary: The path to space travel is never simple. While it's easy to focus on the grand achievements of Ares 1 or the near-disasters of Ares 3, there's much more to life than these missions. Even the closest of bonds between astronauts had to start somewhere.A collection of one-shots based around The Martian. Pre-canon, post-canon, and during canon stories are. Mostly made to centralize where I put all my one-shots for this fandom.Last Chapters:3 - Watney reflects after the failure of Iris.2 - Lewis and Watney go bowling, and Watney makes a decision that's not terribly good.1 - Watney meets Johanssen for the first time, with Beck and Martinez at the sidelines.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. A Runaround

“Martinez, what the fuck do you think NASA was thinking with this shit?”

“I dunno. I think it’s fine.”

Watney couldn’t help but look at Martinez, sitting across from him at that short brown rectangular table, like he had grown a second head. The silent consensus across most of the NASA cafeteria was that the served burgers should not be considered food. The botanist heard groans and murmurs about these particular burgers, which were in fact recycled from poop. The dull brown burger in Martinez’ hands barely looked edible, and the dry bun with flakes that looked like sawdust certainly wasn’t helping its case.

“Dude. Think about what you’re eating. It’s literal shit.”

“In space we’ll recycle the air we breathe and drink our own piss,” Martinez drolly replied. “Recycled food seems like the obvious next step.”

“Recycling air is perfectly fine, boiling piss is common, why the fuck would you turn poop into a burger!?”

“Weight reductions. As an engineer, I would have thought you’d like that.”

“Well for weight reductions, we could also just go without clothes,” Mark sarcastically replied. Martinez just rolled his eyes.

“At least try it. Just a bite. Not that bad.” With that, Rick lowered the burger on to Mark’s plate, which still had the faint residue of macaroni and cheese scattered in small clumps. In response, Watney narrowed his eyes at Martinez, hoping to get him to take the culinary abomination away.

“Fuck you,” Watney asserted as he grabbed the burger.

“That’s a yes,” Martinez smirked.

With that, Mark took a quick bite from the forbidden food item, and nearly threw it up. Dear fuck, it was horrible. The consistency resembled wet cardboard, the bun was more like a cracker than bread, and the taste was practically slop. Combined with the knowledge that this was from poop?

Yep. Definitely shit.

Watney, mostly out of respect, choked the single bite he took down his throat, resisting the urge to gag. He also resisted the urge to throw the not-really food item across the hall, instead slowly lowering it back on to Martinez’ plate.

“Dude. This is shit,” he asserted.

“C’mon, it isn’t that-”

“Nope,” he asserted again. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope. This is basically shit turned into cardboard.”

“Still edible though,” the pilot retorted.

“Is it really?”

“Yep. Just your fault for having sensitive taste buds, Mr. Botanist.” Watney chuckled lightly at that remark.

“Although seriously, what the fuck have you eaten in the Air Force? Did they rip your tongue out?” With that, Martinez chuckled as well.

“Mostly the usual MREs, which are relatively fine. Although, there was this one time where we only had stale bread for two weeks.”

“Rick. The fuck.” For effect, Watney also raised both his hands in front of his body.

“I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that. Despite a solid three other military personnel in this room also hating this shit.” Martinez raised his brow in response.

“When the hell did you count that?”

“I just know most of the people here,” Watney said with a shrug.

“Right, almost forgot your whole, ‘go-be-friends-with-everyone’ shtick.”

“You laugh, but it’s a good idea,” Watney established with a smirk. “Can’t have shitty compatibility ratings with anyone if you’re friends with  _ everyone, _ ” he proudly proclaimed.

“That plan is so ridiculous it actually works.”

“‘Course it does.”

Martinez took another chuckle, taking in Watney’s natural humor. In the meantime, Mark’s eyes dozed across the room, eventually coming to a rest near a certain doctor. After a split second, he took notice of a distinct figure next to him.

“Oh, neat.”

“What are you going to explode this time?” Rick smirked at Mark.

“No, not that. There’s a new person here!” Martinez raised an eyebrow at the other man.

“Ah, I should’ve guessed. You find new friends easier than you find leaks, and you’re a  _ fucking engineer _ .”

“Newton probably found breathing easier than physics,” Watney retorted.

“Alright, lemme see the new guy.”

“Probably a girl, but okay.” 

With that, Martinez turned around in his chair, and glanced over towards approximately the direction Watney was looking. His eyes came to rest pointed at Dr. Beck, clad in jeans and a long sleeved white shirt, who was looking skeptically at one of the infamous burgers on a plate. Just across from him was a figure with relatively long brown hair in a very oversized hoodie, slumping back in a chair while lying their chest on the table, gazing up at Beck’s face. After a second, Martinez established one fact.

“Yep. Definitely a girl.” Watney scoffed.

“Of course you’d be sort of shit at this Rick. She’s probably a sysop, chill, and a close friend of Beck.”

“That’s at least 90% assumption,” Martinez claimed.

“Pretty damn sure I’m correct,” Watney replied. “I’ve met, like, a hundred people on campus and the only ones I’ve seen wearing hoodies are the sysops. I think they have a thing for wearing them while coding. Also she’s sort of just nodding along to whatever Beck’s doing, and we both know how Beck’s half a wreck around strangers.” In response, Martinez wasn’t sure whether or not to be impressed.

“This is the part where you go barge in, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much. Anyways, the good doctor’s my friend, so I want to know his. Do me a solid and take care of my plate,” Watney stated while standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Alright. Don’t trip on the way out, Mr. Plants.”

“‘Course I won’t,” Watney concluded as he walked away, leaving behind Martinez with his quasi-burger.

As he walked across the cafeteria, Mark took in the bright surroundings. Just outside the large windows was a wonderful crisp afternoon with the birds chirping happily. Approaching Beck and his friend, Watney quickly prepared his first line.

“Good afternoon handsome!” Watney exclaimed with the best approximation of a news reporter he could muster.

“Looks like Mr. Swearaholic finally arrived,” Beck retorted. “What medical ‘anomaly’ do you need me to reflect on this time?”

“Try Martinez enjoying that shit,” Mark claimed while pointing at the burger with one bite taken out of it on Beck’s plate. Beck, in response, wrinkled his nose in partial disgust.

“Formally, I can’t really say anything is wrong with him physically. Mentally, and unofficially, Martinez is a little fucking insane. Seriously, anything tastes better than this shit. You’d think these things would have a little more quality control.”

“My point exactly,” Watney said while pulling up a chair to Beck’s left and sitting down in it.

“Now let me guess, you want to meet my friend over there?” Beck arched an eye to his left, towards the other man.

“Yep,” Watney eagerly stated.

“Beth Johanssen, sysop and reactor technician. You have anything to add Johanssen?”

Beth, in response, just sort of glanced away.

“Can’t say I didn’t expect that,” the older man proclaimed.

“Yeah, Johanssen’s just a little shy.”

“Pfft. Like you’re one to judge. Everyone knows how you freeze when a camera.” Beck rolled his eyes. “I swear, you act like you have particle-wave duality,” Watney proclaimed with a grin.

“What do you mean?” Beck inquired.

Watney turned towards the other man for effect.

“You do all sorts of crazy shit, and collapse the moment someone looks at you.”

In response, Johanssen was the one to giggle, still lying down on the table. Watney himself held back a chuckle. Beck took a moment of silence with an unamused expression before responding.

“Yep, you two are the biggest nerds I’ve ever met.”

“Beck, seriously? We work at fucking NASA.”

“Which only makes it even more impressive how nerdy you two are,” Beck sharply retorted. Johanssen snorted before turning to Watney with her retort.

“C’mon, being a nerd isn’t that bad. And speaking of nerds, your name is?”

“Mark Watney,” he said with a smirk. “Engineer and botanist extraordinaire.”

“Alright. What do you want?” Johanssen replied.

“Just want to get to know you.”

“Why?”

“Do I really need a reason for that?” Johanssen stared at him for a moment, and somewhat accepted.

“Too bad. I’m about to go for my daily run. You know how training is.”

Make that somewhat rejected.

“Well then,” Watney asserted, eyeing up Johanssen, “Guess I’ll just have to run with you.” Beck immediately looked at Watney with concern.

“Watney, that’s a really bad idea. She has more stamina than you.”

“Does a fucking  _ sysop _ have more stamina than me? You give shit to every sysop about running in particular.”

“Yep,” Johanssen replied. “I do.”

“Bullshit, you don’t even know how much I can run.” Beck was quick to intervene.

“Watney, I’ve seen your records in NASA’s database and Johanssen running. I know you’re picking a fight you can’t win.”

“C’mon Beck, at least let me try.”

“If you insist,” the doctor relented, with both hands in the air. “You two can go, I still need to finish up here.”

“Sure,” Johanssen said, as she rose out of her chair. With a subtle hand gesture, she goaded Watney to walk out the door with her, with which Watney complied, quickly maneuvering out the door.

“Alright,” the sysop said, getting into starting position to the side of the cafeteria entrance. “I’ll run, and you can follow me. We stop when the other can’t run anymore.”

“And the loser gets dragged to wherever the winner lives, and has to hang out with them” the botanist amended.

“My room’s pretty messy right now, but I think it’s good enough for me to drag you in there.”

“Are you  _ that  _ fucking confident that you’ll win?” Watney inquired with conviction as he got into position next to Johanssen.

“Yep,” she smirked. “You’re fucked,” she said as she leapt ahead.

“We’ll see about that,” Watney proclaimed as he followed her lead.

______________________________________________________________________________

Holy fuck, Mark was tired. He just kept following Johanssen, but the sysop refused to slow down, or to show any signs of being tired whatsoever. He didn’t have a watch, but he was relatively certain a little less than an hour had passed. His legs felt like they were going numb, and he was pretty damn close to just giving up.

“Fuck this.”

Never mind. He gave up.

With that Johanssen quickly skidded to a halt, turning around to face Watney with a smirk. But her hoodie kept coasting, and quickly fell off of her head. As she finished turning, Watney took a good look at Johanssen.

She was pretty short, probably not much taller than 5 feet. She had decently long brown hair, but what really drew him in was her eyes. Something about her bright brown gaze drew him in.

“And you said you were going to beat me,” Johanssen smugly replied. 

“Fuck off,” Watney replied.

“Still, you did good for what was probably seven miles.”

“I did fucking amazing. You’re just ridiculous,” he amended. Johanssen amped up her smirk in response.

“We’re astronauts. We’re supposed to be ridiculous.” Watney did the closest thing he could do to chuckling at that moment.

“Fine. Just give me a minute and I’ll go fuck off.”

“Oh no,” Johanssen said, taking a step towards the panting man. “You said the loser would get dragged off to the winner’s house, and here we are. You lost. You’ll be coming with me.” Watney looked up at her in disbelief, still bent down panting.

“Do you seriously want me to hang around?”

“Yep. You have some balls Watney, and I want to get to know you.” Watney sighed.

“Y’know, you could have just said that before.”

“Nope. I wanted to see how easily you’d wuss out.”

“Well now I can barely fucking stand, so I’m not following you.”

Johanssen took a moment to stare at Watney, glancing down at the rest of his body, before coming up with a solution.

“Ok,” she said as she immediately reached around Watney’s waist.

“Johanssen, what the fuck are you doing!?”

“I’ll just carry you,” she said, as she hoisted Watney onto her right shoulder. She shakily began to turn around and walk forward.

“You’re going to break a leg. I mean, you’re as thin as a toothpick and I’m a solid 6 inches taller than you,” Watney said slumped on her shoulder.

“Haven’t we already established that astronauts are inherently ridiculous?”

Watney opened his mouth, and then immediately closed it.

“Thought so,” Johanssen replied.

“Fine,” Watney said, begrudgingly accepting the situation. “Let me down in a few minutes, and I’ll just follow you.”

“Sure,” Johanssen said as she walked down the sidewalk, with the botanist perched on her shoulder.

______________________________________________________________________________

Watney wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but a normal apartment seemed reasonable. It was only around a twenty minute walk to get to Johanssen’s place, and she was just fiddling with the lock in that well lit third story apartment hall.

“Alright,” she proclaimed as the lock clicked and she opened the door.

There were a lot of things Watney was expecting to find. For example, the well cleaned kitchen beyond the living room, the sizable flatscreen TV with a variety of consoles, and a gray couch. He wasn’t expecting to find a certain doctor, who was looking directly at him with some sort of medical paper in his lap.

“So Watney, how’d you enjoy running with Johanssen?” said Beck.

“Fuck that, why the hell are you here?” Beck looked at him condescendingly.

“I live here.”

“With Johanssen?”

Beck nodded, and Johanssen shrugged as well.

“How the fuck did NASA let this happen!? I know they raise so much shit about two astronauts of different genders living together due to ‘romantic concerns’.”

“They did raise a lot of shit about this,” Johanssen replied. “We just had to convince them that we were just close friends.”

“And that worked?”

“Pretty much.” 

Watney took a moment to respond, donning his usual grin.

“So tell me, have you ever seen Johanssen naked?”

“And that’s why NASA doesn’t let  _ you  _ bunk with women,” Beck retorted. In response, Watney resisted the urge to laugh, mostly on account of how tired he was.

“Anyways,” Johanssen intervened, “I brought Watney here to talk with him. If you could just go to your room so we can talk here, that’d be nice.”

“Okay. Don’t do anything stupid,” Beck responded as he picked up his paper and departed down the hallway to the left. Shortly after, Watney unceremoniously flopped onto the couch. Johanssen quickly picked him up to turn him vertically, before sitting to the left of him.

“Are you really that tired?” the sysop inquired.

“Mmph,” Watney replied, almost asleep. “Sore.”

“C’mon Watney, you lost. And per your rules, the loser gets to do whatever the winner wants.”

“Ugh, fine,” With that, Watney opened his eyes and sat a little straighter. “What do you want?”

“I just want to talk. Beck told me about you, and you sound interesting. Especially given how you talk with  _ everyone _ . I figured it was just a matter of time before we met.”

“Heh. Making friends is just my normal modus operandi.”

“Why?”

“Why the fuck not?”

Johanssen raised her right hand into the air before dropping it back down, silently conceding Watney had a point.

“Anyways,” the botanist continued, “how the fuck can you run that much?”

“I was in track and field for part of high school and my college years. Continued my routines up until now.” Watney raised an eyebrow towards her.

“But you’re a sysop.”

“So?”

“Every other sysop I know dropped pretty much all physical activity when they began their jobs. Why didn’t you?”

“I reiterate your ‘Why the fuck not?’”

Watney then did a near perfect repeat of Johanssen’s reaction to that same line. Johanssen let the mood sit for a few seconds before continuing.

“Well anyways, there’s actually something I wanted to do with you. Got the idea from when Beck called you a nerd.”

“I am  _ not  _ a nerd.”

“That quantum physics joke you made says otherwise.” Watney scoffed.

“So?”

“I will admit that I’m  _ kind of  _ a nerd. Not as much of a nerd as you, but just a bit.”

“Sure,” Watney drolly replied. “Someone who made computer programs for a living isn’t a nerd.”

“Anyways, I’ve got an idea,” Johanssen said as a grin appeared on her mouth.

“What makes you I’ll agree to it?”

“At the very least, we’re both a little nerdy.”

Johanssen then looked up at him, and he took a moment to stare back. Her brown eyes were already powerful, but there was something about the way they solidified that made her look determined. It was a normal look for an astronaut, even by those standards it was strong!

Watney looked forward to what came next.

“Kerbal Space Program 2.”

Yep. Definitely amazing.

“Holy fuck, yes!” Mark exclaimed. “I swear to God that is the best game ever made-”

“Well Beck calls it a nerd game, so guess he was correct about you.” Watney quickly narrowed his eyebrows towards Johanssen.

“Beck better not be dissing KSP 2, that shit is amazing-”

“If he dissed it I wouldn’t be living with him,” Beth bluntly replied, as Watney responded with a snort.

“You want me to play a multiplayer versus campaign with you?”

“Yep,” Johanssen eagerly replied. “You can take the old KSC 2 base and I’ll take the desert launch site. Neither of us take the equatorial KSC just because an equatorial launch site makes orbital mechanics  _ way too easy. _ ”

“What made you think I’d wuss out with the equatorial center?”

“Beck’s sort of bad at this and I’ve been aching for a good player 2, so don’t disappoint Watney!”

“I won’t,” he smirked. “This time, you’re on my turf.”

“This is a computer program, so this is technically my turf.”

“It’s also an engineering game, so I guess we’re equal, huh?” Johanssen giggled a little.

“Alright, let me go get my laptop and borrow Beck’s,” she said as she got up to turn down the hallway to the left.

Immediately, Watney started thinking about his first mission plans. He knew the classic ‘Jumping Flea’ strategy, but the question was always whether or not to farm for biomes or to push for high space. There was a lot of science near all the space centers, but the point values for low and high space were-

“Alright Watney,” Johanssen interrupted as she turned around the corner with one laptop under each of her arms.

Yep. Even after running seven miles, he was  _ not  _ going to be beaten here.

“Let’s go.”

This was going to be a  _ wonderful  _ friendship.


	2. Grabs and Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watney and Lewis go bowling. It would have been fine, if not for one stupid mistake.

Mark Watney had a lot of things he wanted to do, which made life interesting. With all of the astronaut candidates on campus, the question of what he’d do and who he’d do it with was always up in the air. However, he was especially eager to see how this would turn out.

“Alright commander, are you ready?”

“Aye aye captain,” Melissa Lewis smirked back.

Both astronaut candidates were at a bowling alley not too far from campus, after a light day of work. Of course, ‘light’ still involved lectures and mile long runs. Watney made an attempt to shanghai as many people as possible into a round of bowling, but he only succeeded in convincing Lewis. The duo both wore shorts, short sleeves, and the customary bowling shoes, with Watney’s hand hovering over the touchpad for the game.

“Lewis, what the fuck?” Watney replied. “Was that a Spongebob reference?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Why the fuck would you say that?”

“I couldn’t resist. You set the joke up perfectly,” she chuckled.

“Well, guess we’ll fucking roll with it,” Mark responded as he hit the start button. “Should we go by our first names or our last names?”

“Last names,” Lewis replied. “If we somehow get on the same mission, we’ll be using them .”

“Optimistic much?”

“We’re both already training to be astronauts. If that’s not the definition of optimistic, I don’t know what is.”

“Last names it is,” Watney said as he quickly typed out the necessary information and started the game. With that, the machinery of the lane began to hum as it placed down the first set of pins. “You go first.”

“Sure,” Lewis said as she grabbed the nearest bowling ball. “You’ve been pretty good in training, so don’t disappoint Watney!”

“I’m 90% sure you just jinxed yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t sass you  _ too  _ much when you hit the gutter twice,” Watney grinned back.

“Well then, may the best player win.”

With that, Commander Lewis took swiftly rolled the ball right down the middle of the alley, and the resulting crash took out six pins. Her next shot aimed at the right corner, and took out another two pins.

“So can you beat that?”

“Of course I can,” Mark said as his name appeared on the screen and he grabbed the nearest bowling ball with a growing grin. “In fact, watch me get a strike right now!”

Watney applied a hearty amount of spin on to his ball, fully intent on hitting all of the pins. Instead, the moment he rolled the ball, it immediately drifted right, directly into the gutter.

“I said,” Watney drew out as he grabbed another bowling ball, “Right now!” 

His second shot also darted into the gutter unceremoniously, making a loud crash. Both astronauts stared at the part of the gutter where the ball entered, and Lewis eventually began her quip.

“What was that about getting a strike?”

Watney took a moment to think about his response, before choosing his favorite two words.

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously,” Commander Lewis smirked. “Did you lose the first round because you wanted to go easy on me?”

“Like I said,” Watney asserted with an eye roll, “Fuck off.”

“No can do,” Lewis replied. “I think a certain someone challenged me. And do you really think I’d back down easily?” Watney quickly sighed.

“Nope. If that was the case, we wouldn’t have listened to fucking disco on the way here.”

“Honestly, I still have no idea what you think is wrong with disco.”

“What the fuck isn’t wrong with it!?” Lewis sighed.

“Ah, you just have a bad taste in music.”

“Go take your turn Lewis.”

On that note, the two astronauts focused on their game. The pace was generally quick, and the score was relatively close. While Lewis was a more accurate player, Watney quickly realized that spamming attempted strikes would fuck him over far more than they would help. So the botanist started applying less risky tactics, but still used the occasional risky shot. It even worked, with him getting a spare on his third round. By the start of the 6th round, the score was Lewis at 49 to Watney at 43. Unfortunately, a wrong step left Commander Lewis slipping to the floor, with her throwing the ball down the alley shortly before crashing with a thud. Watney jumped out of his chair to help.

“Holy fuck! Are you okay Lewis?” In the background, he dimly processed a crash.

“Of course I am,” she replied from the floor. “Also, how do like my strike?”

Mark took a moment to look towards the now floored pins.

“Lewis, the fuck?”

“Oh come on, I thought you liked strikes.”

“So was that an accident, or do you just like the floor?”

“Well, the floor is pretty nice,” she sarcastically replied. “Don’t you agree Watney?” The man snickered in response. “Although, could you lend a hand?”

“With pleasure,” Watney replied, as he got in front of the commander. After extending his right hand, Lewis grabbed it with her left hand, and quickly hoisted herself up. Unfortunately, her right foot almost instantly slipped backwards. With her nearly slipping a second time, Watney quickly maneuvered his left hand in order to prevent Lewis from falling again.

Then again, he probably should have thought a little bit more before putting his hand on the commander’s rear.

Reacting quickly, Watney applied just enough force to prevent her from slipping, adding an extra second to assure that she was stable. He then quickly lifted both of his hands, stepping back with his eyes wide. Melissa’s eyes widened in response as well. Mark quickly terminated all impure thoughts he had, and immediately began an attempt at damage control.

“Uh, guess  _ that’s  _ a line you never expected me to cross, eh?” 

Lewis took a second to respond, taking the time to blink, and then took another second to let the silence sink in.

“Not gonna lie,” she replied. “I  _ certainly  _ don’t think I’ll forget this.” She let the silence remain for a few seconds. “But I think that was also a good move.”

“I-what?”

“Honestly, that was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. There wasn’t much time before I would have slipped again, so you helped me get back on my feet. Also, it definitely counts that you let go of… me rather quickly.”

Watney also took a moment before letting out a sharp breath.

“Yeah, can’t say I thought I’d ever do that either.” He then took a moment to think about what his next line would be. “Although on the bright side, I don’t think anyone will be asking me, “Have you ever groped a commanding officer’s ass before?” Dear fuck, I am  _ so  _ fucking glad you’re not anyone else.” Watney let out a reluctant chuckle while Lewis snorted.

“And there’s the Watney level humor,” Lewis amended. “Although, what do you mean by ‘not anyone else’?”

“Oh c’mon commander, you have to know what I’m talking about,” he replied.

“Do you think I’m the only one who would let that slide?”

“Yep,” the botanist bluntly replied. “I’ve made mutual friends with every other officer, and you’re the least disciplined one by far. No offense, of course.” Lewis raised an eyebrow at Watney.

“Mark, don’t forget my stance against towards this stuff.” Lewis raised her voice quite a bit. “I understand this was an accident, but do it on purpose, and I  _ will  _ have you trembling muscles that you never knew you had.”

“Oh come on, I know I’m shit at anatomy, but you don’t have to rub it in!”

Lewis took a moment to process what he said, only to find herself snickering.

“Although seriously,” Watney amended, “I would never do shit like that intentionally.”

“I’d like to think that, but stuff like that tends to pop up whenever I least expect it. And I’ve found that putting my foot down is the best approach.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it. I know all commanders have a ‘stick-up-their-ass’ mode, and this is yours.” With that, Watney took one last look at Lewis before turning back to the bowling balls.

The rest of the game went smoothly, with both astronauts slowly perfecting their techniques. Both were, of course, stumbling to get back into the zone, but they managed to do it. By the final round, the score was Lewis’ 98 to Watney’s 81. Lewis smirked at Watney condescendingly.

“Alright, this is where I get serious,” he proclaimed.

“Sorry Watney, but I think I’ve got this in the bag.”

“Nope,” Watney said as he cracked his knuckles. “Time to break out try hard mode.” Lewis saw Watney get an odd glint in his eyes, and so she paid close attention.

Mark quickly lowered his stance and narrowed his eyes. To his right, he grabbed a bowling ball and lifted it up a few inches. After getting a handle on how massive that particular ball was, he put it back down. He then tested a second and a third bowling ball, before settling on the fourth, bringing the ball right in front of his right eye, and shutting his left. Shuffling his feet in as small an increment as possible, he carefully aimed his shot in between the first and third pins. He then moved his arm slowly back and forth, preparing his shot. Lewis spotted a level of precision in his bright blue eye that normally only appeared in practice EVAs.

“Uh, Watney?” The botanist didn’t respond.

On a dime, he then threw the ball with as much force as he could apply. It darted down the aisle, and nailed a quick strike.

“BAM!” he exclaimed victoriously as he whirled around to grab another bowling ball. He then spent another four revolutions letting the pins reorganize, before chucking his second shot.

“BAM!” he repeated as he got another strike, donning his usual dumb grin. Lewis could clearly see his excitement as he spun around another five times, grabbing another ball.

“BAM!”

Now, if Watney was perfect, he would have landed another strike. But he was unfortunately just a dorky botanist, and so he missed. Not only did he miss all of the pins, but his shot sailed right out of the aisle, crashing into the gutter of the right aisle. Of course, the extra 20 points were still enough to let him win the game.

Once all was said and done, the two astronauts stood there in silence. Watney eventually donned his shit eating grin. 

“So, did ’ya recall that astronauts tend to do crazy shit?” he proclaimed.

“How did you do that, and why didn’t you do that earlier?”

“I’m an engineer, remember? Overthinking things is the entire job, but pulling it out all the time gets annoying as fuck. So I just do it to whoop ass when needed.”

Lewis sighed, conceding her defeat.

“So,” Watney interjected, “What’s the prize?”

“You got to win, what prize is there?” Lewis said.

“Oh c’mon, give me something.” Lewis raised an eye at the botanist.

“Keep going Mark, and I will do something you’ll hate.” For effect, she also got out of her chair.

Mark, drunk on success, was not going to back off.

“So will you pay me $50? Buy me lunch tomorrow? Stop playing disco around me? I’ll take anything, really!”

Melissa Lewis sighed, knowing just how much he’d stop in his tracks.

“Well,” she started, “You got a handful of my ass, isn’t that enough?” Watney nearly fell over in response to that.

“Fuck, do you really-”

“I did say that I wouldn’t forget about that.”

“Well,” Watney started, and then dragged on for a few more seconds, “At least I know you’re cool with that.” Lewis chuckled lightly.

“To be honest, out of everyone who could have done it, a single guy that has a hundred friends with no romantic intentions was probably the best option.”

“Well, I could have been gay.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t you think I would have said that earlier to skip this shit?”

“You’d be surprised at how far some people would go to hide that.”

“Well unfortunately I’m not, so I can think about your ass with  _ every _ adjective that a straight man would use.”

“ _ Someone’s _ playing a risky game here,” Lewis said as she flashed an unprompted grin.

“I can see you smiling,” Watney replied with his own smile.

“Want to figure out how many bruises you can take before you back off?”

“Want me to describe what I think about your ass? Keep in mind, I will not be fucking gentle with my language!”

“How the hell did we get here?”

“I grabbed your ass, don’t you remember?”

“Keep in mind Mark, you are ten seconds away from being punched right now.”

“Bullshit,” the botanist retorted. “I know you, and you’re taking this like we got drunk at some cheap ass bar. You won’t do jack shit.”

“Well, guess you’re getting punched now Mark.”

“Am I really? You look like you’re sitting back down to cackle like a witch.”

Lewis finally sat back down, letting her laughter grip her entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the few scenes we see from the Ares Live videos, the movie, and the book, nailing down the traits of anyone who isn't Watney is sort of hard. Lewis is even more tricky just because balancing her serious commander side and her bantering side can be a bit difficult, but I'm pretty proud with what I've got.


	3. Welcome to Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris crashes. Watney, in a way, does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is definitely a bit more angsty than the other chapters. Takes place shortly after the Iris launch.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 181

Okay.

Just okay.

I don’t really have much to say.

I don’t have much to explain. A google search for “Iris Probe RUD” should be more than whatever explanation I could fucking cobble together with my fancy engineering degree.

On this shitty rock. Alone.

Guess this is it, huh? No supply probes and no more growing potatoes. This is where it ends.

I’m surprised it wasn’t the disco.

Yeah, I know. That joke didn’t have my normal snark behind it. To be honest, I don’t think I have any more of that. Sort of hard to use it on my deathbed.

I’m not mad. I’ve had my temper tantrums already, and I kind of expected this. Help is millions of fucking miles away after all. One fucking failure would have been more than enough to kill me, or was enough given what happened with Iris.

This log isn’t going to change anything, I’m pretty damn sure of that. But I’m also sure that the doctors back at NASA (who have been ‘mysteriously’ quiet since the Iris launch, along with everyone else) will appreciate me ‘venting my negative emotions’ and ‘not clouding my responsibilities with distracting thoughts’.

Yeah, just sort of forget that I didn’t make a log for four sols.

This sort of fucked is entirely new to me. I’ve been fucked over on Sol 6, where one little incident ruined absolutely everything. I’ve been fucked over with the airlock, where I lived and saw all of my precious little potatoes wither away in the Martian atmosphere. Knowing that you’re fucked without seeing any proof that you’re fucked is a completely different type of fucked. Mostly because it won’t stick. It took a solid 18 hours of Beatles for me being dead to sink in.

I’m going to sleep.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 182

If you’re wondering what a dead man does, it’s mostly sleep. Honestly can’t stand anymore disco or Beatles. Not just because listening to them got tiring a solid hundreds sols ago, but because everything sort of feels numb. I’m pretty sure this is what death row inmates feel like.

My mind doesn’t want to do anything. Other than not die, of course. I’ve tried reading, but I can’t focus. Tried watching the usual god awful 70s shows, no success. So I’ve mostly been dozing off. Everything else just sort of seems pointless.

What the hell was the point of any of this?

Going to Mars, doing science, watching shows, what the hell was the point of any of it? None of this matters, we all still fucking die. I’ll still fucking die, despite everything I fucking did just to live!

What the hell was the point of any of this shit?

LOG ENTRY: SOL 185

Well, I just finished drafting my last words. They weren’t really my last words, but just a couple of things I wanted to say to the rest of the crew.

God, I miss them.

It was depressingly easy to write the damn things, mostly just not talking about anything related to Mars. Like putting on a mask. The only times I actually mentioned any Mars shit was when I absolutely had to. Tell my parents, not your fault, I think you get the gist.

Yeah, I’m dead. This is how the world is, and this is how it’ll be. The universe just wants to send me to hell.

God, this shit reminds me of Martinez. I already wrote that he was a Catholic back when I raided his cross, and I did say what I thought, as per usual. When I pointed out the whole ‘we haven’t found God’ argument, he was quick to reiterate all of the ‘what if’s, and he actually had some pretty fucking good points. Outside the universe, the big bang, that sort of shit. He couldn’t say he was right and no one could say he was wrong, so I guess he won by stalemate.

I really hope there isn’t a God. I mean if there was, that’d mean he left me here. Either He’s doing nothing or He intended me to fucking die here. If He has a plan for everyone, was my plan just to die?

LOG ENTRY: SOL 186

Maybe this was for the best. I wasn’t going to live, Mars made sure of that. I’m pretty sure all a miracle would do is just let me suffer for a few more sols. Odds are the moment that I’d have stepped on the Hermes, the whole thing would have exploded. I’m just going to die and there’s not a damn thing in any world that I could without dying. 

LOG ENTRY: SOL 188

I’m going to go do something stupid. Watch me do something I’ll regret.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 189

Oh god why did I do that I miss them I miss him I miss her but I’ll die I’m dead they don’t need me

LOG ENTRY: SOL 192

Wasn’t that edgiest cliffhanger possible?

I know, I was doing my whole ‘angsty teen’ act, and this is a pretty fucking different mood. Mostly just because I had a bit of a reality check.

Back when I got Pathfinder up and working, I took a bit of a jaunt through Johanssen’s computer. I could elaborate, but  _ Zork II _ and  _ Leather Goddesses of Phobos _ speak for themselves. So I took a quick waltz through almost every file, and there was only one I didn’t even open. The one that said Crew Pictures.

You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you?

Yeah, I cracked that shit open a few sols ago. And immediately regretted it. I didn’t want to remember them, but I  _ really  _ didn’t have anything better to do.

It was everything I knew it would be. Just pictures of everyone having a good time back on Earth. The time Beck fell on his face when dancing, that time I drunkenly fought Martinez with a cardboard tube, the time I took Johanssen stargazing, all of that. I love those bastards, which just makes it hurt so damn much that I’ll never see any of them again. It was absolute fucking hell, as I think you’ve seen from the last entry. I’ve avoided thinking about them for a very fucking good reason.

Laugh if you will, but I did have a sort of reality check. About the whole, ‘I made those memories with my friends, and those will live’. While it’s about as cheesy as Beck’s taste in media, it sort of makes this shit better. I know that I’m dead, but knowing that everyone else is fine is a pretty damn good feeling. Honestly, knowing that they’ll go off and explore more is good enough for me. I’ve had a good run. Lived a bit, made some friends, and flew to Mars. Definitely could have been worse.

I bet my rotting Martian corpse that Johanssen’s going to invent an AI. She’s ridiculously smart. If anyone will do it, it’s her.

If you’re watching this and it’s only like Ares 6, go ask the rest of the crew for the secret picture. I’m sure you’ve seen us all doing the no-nonsense-serious-stance in the official mission guide, but there’s also the secret picture we took right after it. It was my idea, and then everyone jumped on board. 

It’s basically the official picture, but everyone’s smiling and it looks amazing. I can count the times I’ve seen Dr. Bossy Beck smile on camera on one hand, and dear fucking God he was owning it! I was using my normal wonderful looks, and Commander Lewis had the brightest grin I’ve ever seen on any commanding officer. Martinez was doing his best to look serious and approachable, spoiler alert, he looked goofier than me, and Vogel honestly looked like a supervillain watching his evil plan unfold. Not saying that’s a bad thing, but that’s what it looked like, and I swear to fucking God it was awesome. Johanssen looked like a high school student who accidentally walked into a college picture. Basically, she looked flustered and fucking adorable.

I miss those days.

So yeah, I have good friends, and go watch them smile. It’d mean a lot to me.

______________________________________________________________________________

After hitting the enter button one last time, Watney breathed a sigh of relief. That was probably the first time he remembered the crew and didn’t feel like he was going to burst into tears. He was starting to get the hang of the whole ‘going to die’ act. Yeah, he’d fucking die, but everyone else would remember him. Might as well give them something to remember and smile about. Anyways, even if a miracle did come back to save him, odds are he’d just suffocate in a breaking hab or die in a horrible explosion or-

No. Positive thoughts. Not the ‘you’re going to die’ thoughts.

On the console in Rover 2, Mark spied a new message about some sort of maneuver. Hey, sure. Not like he was going anywhere.

Needless to say, the words ‘Hermes Mars flyby’ and ‘Sol 549’ popped out.

Mark went wide eyed at the revelation, practically stopping in his tracks.

He certainly didn’t expect a miracle to actually work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When thinking about things to cover in canon, there really isn't much to cover on Mars, as Weir really did get most of the sols. The only exceptions were about a hundred sols during the rover modifications and shortly after Iris, as seen above. 
> 
> Watney has generally been incredibly upbeat through most of Mars, but that's because he's always operating under the assumption that he'll live. Shortly after Iris, it would have seemed pretty likely that he'd die and I think that he'd have just a bit of a mental crisis. This was also an interesting way to try and develop his eventual thought process in Bedside Chat.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I referenced KSP in both this and my last fic. These are astronauts, and that is a space game. It just works.
> 
> I also definitely had a bit of fun trying to figure out how to go from a normal conversation to a first meeting.


End file.
